The Destructivedisk Anthology/A Sprint to the Top (Legacies Episode)
A Sprint to the Top was the second story that I wrote for Dragon Ball: Legacies. It was written by Korin, a character who I otherwise have very limited interest in. The story was based around the tale of King Arthur almost in entirety, which is a story I have admittedly little knowledge of. The story was written on February 20, 2011 and was one of my most quickly written stories. I wrote the story within the scope of a single night while in my guest bedroom and I didn't really put much forethought into it. I wrote the story while on Chatango and I am fairly sure that I listened to Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin while writing it. In spite of this, the story is my second-longest one-shot behind If Only You Knew. It would ulimately be my last contribution to Legacies, although I had plans for other stories in the future. None of them were ever written or anything close to being written, really. Also, it's worth noting that Garlic was initially going to be involved in the story. I ultimately scrapped the idea because the Korin Tower was only up for about 800 years, while Garlic's stuff happened far into the past. Had I done this, though, the Unnamed Makyan would've been Garlic and he would have had his own special, where he would have done stuff. I don't remember it too well. A Sprint to the Top My name is Korin. I am but a wandering cat, having tread the ground on naught but my feet for as long as I can remember; perhaps years now, I am not sure. I am by no means young, nor am I particularly old. Indeed, I believe myself to be around 20 years of age, as I stand now. Of course, the early years were quite tough. I lacked survival skills, hunting skills, any types of skills, really. But I managed by, through and through, living only by my unusual trait of requiring almost no food whatsoever to live. With that said, I was nevertheless strangely plump, almost a sphere in shape due to my unusual physique. I am, in no way, an average fellow. I trudged along my path, a small walking stick held in my paws. My whiskers quivered in the passing wind, my hair blowing backwards with a stark stiffness. My steps were graceful, quick, careful; I had learnt to not waste much over the years, my footsteps being no exception to such a rule. I was able to make quick ground, in sole part to this inherent efficiency. Had I a goal? No. Had I a care for this aimlessness? The answer rings repetitious; no. And it was with this haste that I came upon a new village. It was a quaint place, one with neither many huts nor many people. It lacked gold, money, water, all the things which made a village or civilization prosperous. But it made up for this general deprivation with one thing which triumphed all else: Tradition! It was so strong in their culture, so prevalent, that one could argue it motivated every action they made, every decision they came to. They were a strongly-rooted village, that much was true, one which lay at the foot of a monolithic tower. It looked so great, it looked so fine. The very tower was a magnificent shrine to life, having ancient carvings scrawled upon it in every which way. This was the fetish of the village; they prayed to it, they gave it food, they awarded it flowers. It was this pathetic fallacy that formed their very religion, a religion which could not be rightfully called incorrect, as the tower was a tool of Kami himself, arguably the god of the Earth. And I am but a soul lucky enough to have encountered this stupendous location, for it was to become my very fate. And quite a monumental fate it was to be. In the centre of the village there was erected a rock, one with a cane not too unlike my own embedded in it. The handle of the staff protruded from the rock, brown in color and smooth as a needle from which one would inject heroin. It was, almost equivalently to the tower, a subject o’ much admiration, but for a wholly different reason. Legend held that he who was capable of removing the stick would be given the divine right of standing atop the incredible tower. There were a group of young ne’er-do-wells crowding around the rock, their eyes fixated upon the stick that stood out from it. This was their past time; they would sit their and tug upon it, hopping that it would one day come loose and they would become the rulers of all the land. They were all sickened by their own delusions of grandeur, all of them thinking they deserved something more than what they had. In reality, they had never done much of anything, but their own self-righteousness permitted them the ability to call for what they did not have. They called for power, prestige, respect… all things which a young lad wants but cannot have. I stumbled over to this place with my agile feet and cut through the group. I am a wanderer; I inspect, I look, I search. It is through this that I become a wise man, not through natural knowledge nor inherent wisdom, but instead observational prowess. And with my staff I swiftly jumped atop the rock, at which point I clasped my fingers about the staff and prepared to give it a strong tug. Therein lied my grand disrespect, as I was but an ignorant bystander. “Hey - stop that, cat!” came a voice which strongly resembled a little, despicable, malevolent, angry, atrocious, bad, baneful, base, beastly, calamitous, corrupt, damnable, depraved, destructive, disastrous, execrable, flagitious, foul, harmful, hateful, heinous, hideous, iniquitous, injurious, loathsome, maleficent, malicious, malignant, nefarious, offensive, pernicious, poison, rancorous, reprobate, repugnant, repulsive, revolting, spiteful, stinking, ugly, unpleasant, unpropitious, vicious, vile, villainous, wicked, wrathful, wrong rat. This aforementioned vermin then hopped into the air by his hind legs and swatted me quickly off the boulder, before snickering a small bit.. “Ouch… what was that for?” I muttered out in a startled stupor, rubbing my face gently with a paw. I then let out a small hiss, upon seeing he was a bipedal rodent stamp about arrogantly, chest puffed out with prominence. A group of the rats started to chant his name, Scraggly it was, at this machismo attitude. “Wise guy, eh? You know why you shouldn’t be up there. Only deserving folks can touch the staff, and no foreign cat is going to be deserving of the honor, hehe.” And it was then that my great speed surfaced, as, in but a blur of light, I appeared behind the pretentious youngster, before quickly smacking him across the back of his head. The rodent stumbled a wee bit, before collapsing to the ground. I then retook my place on the top of the great pebble, preying down upon the group of small, ugh, rats standing below me. That was the noble cause, of course, that was my job. I had to stop them from ever removing the staff, no matter how little I actually cared about the staff. And my fingernails extended from their claws, wrapping silently around the straight handle. I pulled my body backwards, and, with a quick bend of the knees, I leaped backwards. This reliance on leg strength came from my lack of arm conditioning, but such is not currently the matter; instead, the result is my very issue which pertains to my convoluted rambling. And what a large result it was, too. Chips of the rock went flying, the staff itself came out, slow and straight, and I myself was propelled backward due to my supernatural strength, but thanks to my vice-like grip I held onto the staff with ease. What a great tumble it was, too. Dirt. It crowded, it diluted my optical nerves. The green grass bristled past my white fur as I slowly pushed myself up, quickly spitting some dead insect carcasses out of my teeth. But, through all this turmoil, the staff remained firm in my hand, fitting flawlessly like a baby in a cannibal’s hungry hands. For some reason, I felt so horribly comfortable with it in my hands, so… at ease. But the bizarreness did not go to rest here. It continued, but, in this event, it was greater than anything I had witnessed beforehand, but certainly have I seen stranger things since. From the very heavens came a large… a large… stairway. Yes, it was profound, it was large, it was semi-translucent, it was multi-coloured, but, most significantly of all, it led into the skies. It ascended to the pale blue blanket which overhung us all, before eventually being shrouded by blank white clouds of cotton. In fact, it was utterly identical to my very fur, but such comparisons are ultimately coincidental and can’t possibly have meaning, right? Right. Alas, I stood up completely, shaking a bit to get the dirt off of me. Following this, I sprinted a little bit to get to the stairs, firmly planted now in the earth. I hopped upon the first step, not particularly caring about the terrible incline. And then I started to run on my hind legs, before I received a sharp tug upon my tail, causing me to fumble and for a sharp jolt of pain to run through my small body. I crumbled upon the ground, briefly looking up to see the scrawny figure of Scraggly dashing up the stairs with unbelievable grace. I picked myself up. I ran. We moved our feet in synchronization. Although I may have held the advantage in speed, he held the advantage in purpose; he was prideful, vengeful, and disappointed with himself, all of which fueled his ability to run with matchable, but not surpassable, speed. Such was the summation of our epic race, for the hours it lasted. My muscles tightened. They became sore. But still I pushed forward, with anguish and with confidence. How long could it possibly be, I questioned, as I mechanically moved my legs further. Scraggly had to be in pain as well; it was simply impossible for one to move this quickly for so long without any discomfort whatsoever. He moved forward to, but when he tired, I would catch him - and then I would probably kill him. I am not certain for how long we traveled following that. It must have been many hours, at the slightest. But soon a great body in the sky came into sight, one from which the stairs were descending. We reached it soon enough. It was not a difficult task by any means, particularly after all of the climbing that had preceded it. Once we reached the flat surface, we immediately heard grunting. Or, at the very least, I did; I know naught about what Scraggly heard. Nonetheless, the grunting was loud and nearly obnoxious, similar to ones my future friends would emit whenever they tried to do anything. With that said, an important battle seemed to be taking place, between a green man and a man with skin of a purple tinge were blasting each other with what were apparently lights, which I now know as Ki Blasts. One was the Kami of the world itself, a wise Namekian chosen to come here and protect my planet, the other a Makyan of malicious intentions who wanted only to defeat the Namekian and rule our very planet. They were strangely alike, in numerous ways. Both strived for power, both immigrated from an alien planet, and both were among the most powerful beings on the planet. However, it was the content of their character which separated the two, for one would meet success and the other failure. However, that much is, for the moment, left uncertain. Scraggly, being the first to arrive, was naturally the first to spring into action. He flung himself at the Makyan, only for the Makyan devil to not so much as notice his presence and simply back flip out of the course of our friend Scraggly. He dove headfirst, his head cutting through the air with acute speed. And with this great manifestation of speed and loyalty, Scraggly dove off the side of the Lookout, descending downward like the aforementioned heroin needle into an inner city boy’s arm, or perhaps the previously referenced baby into the cannibal’s mouth, or even a grown man’s fruits into a - er, I’ll stop myself there. Moving forward from my figurative ramblings, let me simply say that I was terribly nonplussed by the whole incident. It was all such a vex, this whole predicament. With this muddled mindset, I sprang forward, at the one who looked like the more evil of the two, except for this time I was slightly more efficient in my approach. I made no declarations of faith or anything of the sort, instead allowing my presence to go unnoticed. I raised my staff high into the air, and with a grimace I came close to the Makyan. It was then that a miraculous occurrence came about. My staff grew red, followed by a tingling sensation rushing down my arms and soon through my entire body. And then with force I slammed down my weapon on the Makyan’s head. He crumbled. “When I am king - When I am king, you will be first against the wall!” he grunted, his passing words being but mere attempts at a resurrection of hope, before he fell to the ground and blew off in the wind. I was left standing there, stable-footed, panting all the while with confusion still prevalent. “You’ve finally come, haven’t you?” said the voice of an old man, as he appeared behind me. “I was starting to think you might never come, Korin.” How did he know my name? “I see you already have your staff; that much is good. How would you feel about being my eternal watchman?” I remained speechless. I felt his cold hand rub against my soldier. “Hahaha, I’ll take that as a yes! Here, take these,” he stated, handing me a small pair of glasses. “You’ll see for miles with those; you’ll see anything you want to actually, good sir!” he stated with a smile and a laugh, being the jovial man he was. And with these kind remarks, there was a bright flash of light, and I found myself sitting atop a tower, overlooking nature. With a skeptical glance and a smile, I peered over the balcony, looking at all the nature to be found for miles of range. I grinned heartily, for this was now my legion. Endnotes #This was my first time writing in first person. That's why it's so rough. I mean, realistically, the Korin portrayed here was nothing like the normal Korin shown in the show. I didn't attempt first person again until Why Bother?, a considerably more successful venture. #I'm not totally sure, but I think I was trying to imitate/impersonate the writing style used in In Requiem in the story... which would have been better if I had used the third person perspective. #The city which has no water, money, or gold is probably a reference to Jerusalem, because it has no reason to be prosperous other than religion. #"It looked so great, it looked so fine." is a reference to something, but I have no idea what to. #This story was one of my first to include a comical reference to drugs, with the line "smooth as a needle from which one would inject heroin". #Ne'erdowells is one of my favorite words so I'm glad that I worked it into the story. #"“Hey - stop that, cat!” came a voice which strongly resembled a little, despicable, malevolent, angry, atrocious, bad, baneful, base, beastly, calamitous, corrupt, damnable, depraved, destructive, disastrous, execrable, flagitious, foul, harmful, hateful, heinous, hideous, iniquitous, injurious, loathsome, maleficent, malicious, malignant, nefarious, offensive, pernicious, poison, rancorous, reprobate, repugnant, repulsive, revolting, spiteful, stinking, ugly, unpleasant, unpropitious, vicious, vile, villainous, wicked, wrathful, wrong rat." was basically just a list of synonyms for bad. I think I used a thesaurus more extensively in this story than any other. #"I then let out a small hiss, upon seeing he was a bipedal rodent stamp about arrogantly, chest puffed out with prominence. A group of the rats started to chant his name, Scraggly it was, at this machismo attitude." is one of the worst paragraphs I have ever written. #The level of detail I put into the scene with Korin pulling out the staff was a big step forward for me, because I had put a lot less detail into my fight scenes up until that point. #"fitting flawlessly like a baby in a cannibal’s hungry hands" is probably one of the best similes I've ever used. I like to include really dark similes into my stories, which I've done in other stories like Tien: Origins and A Front. #The stairway coming from heaven was obviously a reference to the song Stairway to Heaven, which I was listening to at the time. #The title is derived from the fact that Korin and Scraggly are sprinting against each other to get to the top of the stairs. It's fairly literal. #"Nonetheless, the grunting was loud and nearly obnoxious, similar to ones my future friends would emit whenever they tried to do anything." is an obvious reference to the Z Fighters. #"However, that much is, for the moment, left uncertain." - Obviously, I would have done in either of the story's counterparts. #'nonplussed' was used because it was one of my vocabulary words in seventh grade. I think 'vex' was as well. #The staff's ability to turn red was shown in the anime, albeit briefly. #The line "When I am king you will be first against the wall" is a line used in Paranoid Android by Radiohead, so I may have been listening to that by that point. #The old man was Kami. #"for this was now my legion." is a reference to a line in So Lonely At The Top (Legacies Episode). The title to this story also owes something of a debt to that story. 'A Sprint to the Top' was a growing story for me. It was really just me trying to impress KidVegeta; my writing style and my Radiohead references show this. The writing is clearly inauthentic and I shouldn't have written it how I did. It's not realistic for Korin at all and writing the story in first person was almost surely a mistake. The plot is all right on its own and the writing probably could be a whole lot worse. In totality, though this is a generally bad story. It could have been a pretty good one, but choices in style, writing, and characterization prevented it from being average. This is a mostly rushed story that could've been better if I had put more thought into it. I would give it a D rating. Category:Destructivedisk Category:Fan Fiction